I am a soul lost in translation. A mystery to myself. Trudge through days and days forgetting that life is a gift. A haunting gift with sharp edges and blurred lines. I am in-between. A watercolor portrait of grainy colors blending into the shape of my lips. The moon losing her head when the sun rises. Maybe we were constellations. Stars aligned in the same picture. Maybe we lost ourselves. I’m losing my mind. Do you still think of me? I do. Always. Maybe you are lonely. Maybe I was, too.
